Friday, June 3, 2011

Post Paradise


Back on the mainland, we were forced back into reality and the no worry attitude of the island seem to fade away just as quickly as we had adopted it. Jordan’s rare lung condition started to act up the night we got back to Dar Es Salam. We were up all night just trying to get her comfortable and debating whether to go to the hospital in Dar or wait until we got back to Moshi.

Thanks to Philipo, we were able to catch a ride with one of his friends back to Moshi and avoided taking the cramped bus with no shocks back home. We said our final goodbyes to Rachel who’s eyelids were only half open still and was wearing nothing but a toga made from her sheet. It was easier to say goodbye knowing that we would see her again this summer.

The ride back home was much more enjoyable than the one down, for me at least. Poor Jordan cringed at every speed bump and I felt helpless knowing there was nothing I could do to ease the pain.

Our journey came to a pause only a couple hours in due to a car wreck where a bus was completely engulfed in flames. Every driver and their passengers from the cars stopped seemed to think that their presence in the middle of all the action was needed. Mass amounts of people, literally in the hundreds, crowded the street trying to get a better look. Looking up the road behind us, it looked like a marathon or some Walk for the Cure event as more and more people got out of their cars to join the group.

After a while, we were able to drive through the crowd and around the still burning bus. As we passed the metal shell, Jordan and I gave each other the same shocked look. The name “Dar Express” could still be read on the side. That should have been our bus if we hadn’t gotten a ride. I guess some things do happen for a reason.

When we finally reached Moshi, we spent the remainder of the day rushing to different four or five different clinics and hospitals getting medication, x-rays and running other tests trying to figure out what was going on with Jordan’s pain. We didn’t discover much but they treated her for several different conditions and by the next morning, thanks to Tremedol (a relaxation drug) she was feeling much more…relaxed. I would be in the middle of telling her something and turn around to find her passed out, mouth open and everything.

As Jordan’s condition seemed to progress, mine began to digress. The next day we were back at the hospital getting tests run. Both our blood tests came back negative for malaria but one of mine came back positive for an amoeba. Carl was back.

The remainder of the week was spent in bed, watching movies and working out issues with coordinators and worried parents back home.

On Thursday, we were rejoined by Jasen right before we said goodbye to Barbara and Lynn. The next night we went out to Glacier to celebrate. Still on antibiotics and not feeling the greatest I stole Philipo’s keys and fell asleep in the back of his car. It wasn’t until we were back home that I woke up and zombie walked into home base where I then collapsed on my bed.

All day Saturday, Jordan and I spent packing up all of the crap I came with plus the extra crap I have collected since I’ve been here and moved it up to my new home up at KCMC. My room sits under a perfect view of Mount Kilimanjaro next to a cornfield and an above grave. After walking through a red gate, you see eight doors, four on the left and four on the right facing each other. In the center two clothes lines run the length of the building and end down near the shared kitchen. Having my own bathroom, queen size bed with no bug net, a sound system and a mini fridge is definitely an upgrade.

I met my neighbors and made the mistake of assuming because they were black they were from Tanzania and spoke Swahili with each one. All of them are either doctors, nurses, or studying to become one or the other. Though all from Africa, they are from all over including Rwanda, Zambia, Uganda and South Africa.
On Monday, Jordan and I met two of the four new volunteers who had apparently arrived that weekend. The trauma room became very crowded so we all split up to spread things out. I followed Kishe on ward rounds taking temperatures, blood pressure, pulse rates, wrote out prescriptions, and changed dressings.

One of the patients was a quadriplegic and had a wound about 10 inches in diameter on his lower back and buttocks from lying in his own fecal matter. The wound was so deep you could see and touch his spinal cord. The doctors said there was nothing we could do at this point seeing as it was impossible to keep to wound clean for more than two hours. They shrugged and said he would be dead by the end of the week. He died two days later.

Friday night, Jordan and I went to the doctors’ house to cook them homemade macaroni and cheese. However, on the way over I lost my wallet on the daladala. Of course, it was only after I cancelled my card and filed a police report that I got a call that someone had found it. Everything was there except 25,000 TSH and then an extra 15,000 TSH that Philipo gave to the person who turned it in. It’s been over a month now that I’ve gone without a card and I just found out that they didn’t even send the new card to Africa…it’s sitting useless at my address in America.

The following day, Junior told convinced us to go with him to Rombo, a very rural town at the base of Kilimanjaro, for “an exciting day that [would] be lots of fun.” The day did not go that way at all. To start off, Jordan didn’t go so I was left to have the exciting adventure without my partner in crime. Next, I spent an hour and a half waiting at the bus station trying to ignore all the conductors trying to convince me to go on their bus while street hustlers were grabbing my arm trying to get me to follow them to their store or to buy their peanuts and cigarettes.

When we finally got to Rombo, an hour and forty-five minutes later, and arrived at Juniors home via pikipiki, he told me what we really were going to be doing all day: moving water from one well on his property to another well across town.

After spending a half hour trying to get the truck to start we drove over to the other property to get the barrels. The guy who had the keys to the storage room with the barrels wasn’t there of course so we found a ladder, climbed up to the roof, slipped in between the rafters and the top of the walls and handed the barrels over that way.

We took turns driving the beaten up truck, which took some getting used to seeing as it was a manual with the driver side set on the right side.

It was then back to the first property to first fill up each barrel by using a smaller bucket and a rope to draw water from the well before lugging the barrel to the bed of the truck and driving back to the second property to empty the barrels.

We did this all day.

If it wasn’t for his sweet, little grandma who made a delicious Chagga meal and put me in a better, I probably would have murdered him right then and there and buried him somewhere in the corn field.

By the time we had finished, we had missed the last bus back to Moshi. We ended up grabbing a ride with some random couple who happen to be heading to town and had an obsession with the song “Natural Mystic” by Bob Marley. The song was on repeat the entire hour and forty-five minute ride home. It was right around the thirteenth time we were hearing the song that I was glad I didn’t have any sharp objects with me, or blunt for that matter because I’m sure things wouldn’t have ended nicely for that man and I would have ended up in a Tanzanian jail cell.

When we finally got out of the car it was into a tightly packed daladala and then a trek through muddy roads back home where I couldn’t have been more excited to pass out, sleep in and wake up to a brand new day.

Zanzibar

7:30 AM. All packed and ready to begin our vacation to Zanzibar with a fresh cup of Kilimanjaro coffee in hand, Jordan, Brian, Rachel and I sat on our bags waiting for the Dar Express bus to show up at the office. Our departure time was 8:00 AM but we were all aware that we probably wouldn’t be leaving until 8:30 anyway. When the bus finally arrived at 8:15 AM, the bags were loaded and we all rushed to find our perfect seat before the eight hour ride to Dar es Salam. Our rush seemed somewhat pointless seeing as we were forced to sit and wait for an additional forty-five minutes while they tried to fix an issue with the engine which is always an encouraging start to a journey that sees only a limited amount of towns and gas stations along the way.

Around 9-9:15, we were finally on our way. Jordan immediately regretted sitting up front and so did I seeing as I had bruises on my arms from where she would grab me every time we escaped a possible head-on collision. After less than an hour, we stopped at a gas station only to learn that the bus would not be continuing on due to a complication that was beyond their ability to fix. We looked around and all you could see in either direction were grass fields with scattered brachystegia trees up to the brick red dirt that dusted over onto the poorly constructed highway. This is Africa.


We waited around for a couple more hours as random buses would come by and the mass of passengers from our bus would rush the door pushing and shoving to hopefully find that one seat that wasn’t filled. After three or four came and went, there were less of us and we decided to take our chances at jumping on the next bus. The bags were given to Brian whose job was to attack the bag storage on the side of the bus, while Jordan, Rachel and I tag teamed the crowd. Whoever got on first had to save seats for the rest. We succeeded and couldn’t help but stick our noses up a bit as we laughed at the others who didn’t make it on.
Now, at around noon, we were on our way for the second time.

Nine or so horribly long hours later we arrived in Dar. When we got off the bus we hit a wall of hot, sticky humidity, along with taxi drivers pulling on our arms begging us to go with them. We arrived a short while later at the Jambo Hotel located in the edge of downtown Dar. As we waited at the counter to check in, I watched as a rat the size of my foot scurried around sniffing at corners by the entrance to the connected restaurant. It look me a good fifteen seconds before it registered that I should not be okay with the fact that there was a rat in the hotel but I was too tired to think any more of it. I just wanted a bed.

The next morning we were on the ferry and pulling out of the harbor just in front of a huge storm that was about to engulf the city. We found out later that it had caused a severe amount of flooding and several deaths. It was weird being in the sun but seeing the clouds roll in and begin to open up but not being affected by it.

Our first sight of the archipelago, our jaws dropped. It was like stepping into a screensaver. The water was unbelievably clear and a magnificent turquoise. The Stonetown skyline slid into view where small fish boats and sailboats lined the shores. We pulled into the harbor where a mix of grime, touts, dockyard workers and ships covered the scenery.

We got into a taxi which drove us to our first destination on the east coast, Pongwe. The streets were busy with women in bui-bui (the traditional Islamic dress) shopping, children playing ball, wagons pulled by donkeys or cattle next to the cars, boys climbing palm trees to reach the coconuts, huge canopy trucks with people stuffed into the back, and men in kanzu taking their shoes off to attend prayer in the masques.

The driver took a left onto a side road made of coral and white sand. We pulled into the Santa Maria Resort and didn’t need to look any further to decide where we wanted to stay. Beams of sunlight pierced their way through the palm trees and shone in patches along the snow white sand. The four of us split up two and two to share a stone and thatch bungalow on stilts. The grounds were filled with shell strung garlands and hammocks hung between two coconut trees softly swaying in the ocean breeze.

Our shoes were off, bathing suits on and feet in the water before our bags even hit the floor. We were the only ones on the beach besides a few fishermen bringing in their nets and a couple of boys kicking a beaten soccer ball back and forth.

A local invited us for dinner with his family in his humble home off the coast. He served us fresh fish he had caught that morning with a calamari potato sauce and steaming rice. For being someone who hates seafood I rather enjoyed it, but then again I didn’t try the fish.

After dinner, we spent time with our toes in the sand listening to the waves gently crashing on the shore while the almost full moon glistened off the water. While we were enjoying the peacefulness, a long black object came slowly slithering in front of us. The snake was about four feet long and the size of my thigh. One of the bar tenders came running out with a thick stick and started beating on its head like a house wife who was on steroids beating dirt out of a rug. We just watched in somewhat disbelief until he finished.

“Was it poisonous?“ another guest asked.

He looked up at us with a chubby grin, “Oh no no no,” his cheeks jiggled as he shook his head with short brisk movements. He then continued to dispose of the lifeless body by dragging it through the sand to somewhere between the palm trees. We all just looked at each other not really knowing what to think.
Jordan and I awoke right around sunrise and watched as the orange played off the ripples in the water. We were each served a plate of fresh mangos, watermelon, oranges, bananas, passion fruit, pineapple and guava while we waited for our Spanish omelets and crepes.

We spent the majority of the day walking the beach and watching the locals gathering seaweed from the low tide to take to the market where it would be dried and then sold to be turned into makeup. Women and children were also busy carrying baskets of fish and seafood in from the fishing boats that were anchored at a waist high depth. When we returned we continued to lay in the sun or swim.

For dinner we were joined by three bush babies which came next to our table and ate sugar bananas out of our hands. Not too long after dinner, my stomach started churning and I decided to go to bed early hoping to sleep it off.

I’m not sure who had a worse night that night, Jordan or me. Thank god the showers and the toilets are together in the bathroom with a drain because I’m not sure which end I would have chosen to aim in the toilet.

The next morning I could barely sit up straight without feeling the need to rush to the bathroom again. It was unfortunate timing as well because we were switching resorts to Sele’s Bungalows a little further north up the coast. I spent the rest of the day in bed.

The next morning I was feeling much better and decided to join everyone else and go snorkeling. We were out on a small, wooden motorboat before sunrise in order to beat the tide. With heavy eyelids we watched the fishermen prepare their sailboats and nets. About a half hour out into the ride, a pod of dolphins began swimming along side our boats. I think all of us including Brian squealed like little girls on Christmas morning.
“Do you want to swim with them?” our captain asked.
Before I think any of us could answer Jordan and I were already making our way to the bow putting our flippers on as we mostly fell into the water rather than jumping in.

They were so beautiful. They would swim up along side us right before coming up to the surface and then plunging back down. They teased us as they swam around in circles smiling as they passed. Some of them would even show off by jumping into the sky a good seven to ten feet and attempt to flip.

I could have swam with them all day if it wasn’t for the mini jellyfish-like creatures that were stinging us. When we got back to the boat, we had literally hundreds of red bumps all over us from swimming into big clouds of whatever they were.

We continued on to the reef where we snorkeled for a couple hours. There were puffer fish, angle fish, wolf eels, red, orange, blue and pink star fish, huge fish almost the size of us, clown fish, jelly fish, and millions of others. I’ve never seen so many colors or such a mass population of fish all at once. Some would come right up to our masks and stare us in the eyes like we were the ugliest thing they had ever seen, then they would blink and bolt in the opposite direction.

The rest of our stay was spent in Paje, on the southern coast at a very nice guest home called Kilima Kidogo (Little Hill). Every time, we thought that there couldn’t possibly be a nicer place to stay but each one outdid the last. The guest home was run by twin sisters from South Africa who had to be one of the most eccentric yet sweetest characters I’ve met in at least five years. They made our stay more than relaxing with hot fudgy brownies, full body massages on the beach and air conditioned rooms.

Again, we didn’t do much besides read, lay in the sun, and eat. The final night we were there it was a full moon and the locals had a Hakuna Kulala (no sleep) party to celebrate. The house staff, a couple from South Africa and I went and did our best to out dance the locals around the bonfire on the beach. I’m pretty sure we lost at that battle. We came home early, chasing the white crabs on the beach as we went.

Our last day it rained. People ran with banana leaves overhead trying to get to the closest dry spot. By the time we reached Stone Town, it had quit and people were already back to their busy lives. For the first time in seven days I put my shoes on as we got out of the cab and stepped onto the cobblestone road.

Small canopy booths lined the streets and alleyways while a mixed aroma of spices and fresh fruit danced in the air. We made our way through the tight streets bargaining for different spices until we made it to the edge of the island looking out into the Indian Ocean. We walked along the beach past old cathedrals, palaces and military forts to a restaurant out on the beach where we quickly rushed our meal to make it back to the ferry on time.

We made it in time to the ferry and the wait in the downpour. As the ferry pulled out, we watched as Zanzibar slowly faded in the distance and was replaced by a view of blue.